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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789257">Keep It On Your Mind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest_roses/pseuds/forest_roses'>forest_roses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>give me your gravity, there is none here [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wolf 359 (Radio)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 + 1, 5 Things, 5 Times, Asexual Kepler, Canon-Typical Violence, Demisexual Jacobi, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MILD - Freeform, Oops, This will be two chapters, Trans Daniel Jacobi, also yes jacobi brings his own shampoo every time he goes to kepler's house, back at it again with second person pov, five senses, he keeps a little bottle in his bag all the time, just to mess with kepler, the second will be jacobi's pov for the +1, this makes sense once you read the fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:13:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest_roses/pseuds/forest_roses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You, Warren Kepler, are a collector. Of fine alcohol, and of stories, sometimes of lies, often of secrets.<br/>But you also have memories, ones that are not saved for intimidation or amusement, ones you try not to collect, that you try not to remember.<br/>They feel stolen, and you are detached from them, though you have them only because you experienced them, because you are one half of each one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>give me your gravity, there is none here [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kepler</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is named after a cover by the Mountain Goats of Keep It On Your Mind by Hank Williams.</p>
<p>I needed to write and Kepler came to mind. This was supposed to be a fic about memories associated with each of the five senses. It still is, but it evolved a little.</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You, Warren Kepler, are a collector. Of fine alcohol, and of stories, sometimes of lies, often of secrets. You hoard these to keep your reputation up and yourself alive (if the stories and the alcohol don’t always intimidate a man, blackmail rarely fails on the gutless scum you work against.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But you also have memories, ones that are not saved for intimidation or amusement, ones you try not to collect, that you try not to remember. You’d be lying through your mouthful of whiskey if you tried to pretend you hated them, but they feel wrong, somehow. They feel stolen, more so than any other item of interest you have stored inside your darkened mind. You are detached from them, though you have them only because you experienced them, because you are one half of each one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You know these memories are not yours to keep, and yet you keep them anyway.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>1. You took him to some fancy retreat, the first year you worked together. Cutter sent you to gather information about some of the higher-ups in rival companies, and you brought Jacobi along. The first night, he spent about a half hour in the shower, and you were annoyed, waiting for him (you’d made the mistake of mentioning that you always showered before bed, and he was still testing the waters- no pun intended- seeing how far he could tease you). When he opened the door, a wall of scent overtook the room, some flowery, citrus-filled soapy smell that was far stronger than any hotel soap had a right to be. He only grinned at you when you looked at him in disgust, and you didn’t say another word to him until the next morning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Secretly, you thought it wasn’t such a terrible scent, and if you saw him putting all the little bottles of shampoo into his bag before he left, you didn’t say anything. Sometimes you wish you did: he uses it all the time now, purposefully making your shower smell like a bad perfume shop every time he stays over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And if you like the scent too now, if you used the shampoo that time he left it at your house, if it made him grin at you again the next day, you’ve never mentioned it to him.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>2. He always presses against you, likes to be close to you while falling asleep, you woke up once at the dawn to find him wrapped around you and you let him sleep a quarter hour too late because the feeling of his quiet breath against your skin was too much to give up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cutter wondered why the two of you were late that day.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>3. The way he looked at you, the first time you kissed him, the fireworks reflected in his eyes, the way you knew then and there that you’d made a mistake in falling for him (emotions are not a part of your job, and you are your job, were your job, up until the moment he made you feel something in that bar one year before, just by his being there.) The way you knew his mistake, in falling for you, was so, so much worse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The way you didn’t care once he started kissing you back.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>4. He said your name in his sleep, once. Not Kepler, not the name you’d expect, not the name you wish he’d say so you could pretend he didn’t really know you, so you could feel better when you’re angry at him and he looks a little like a kicked puppy behind all the defiance in his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But no, he said Warren and it kills you, it kills you because he's only ever said that to you a handful of times and you feel like you've stolen another from him. Unintentionally, and hiding in silence, in the dark, wondering if you ever speak in your sleep too, hoping that you don’t (knowing that you probably do).</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>5. You don’t get scared. You don’t get worried: you’re Warren Kepler, and your lack of most of the common human emotions is one of your defining factors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You got scared, that time. He didn’t wake up in time, and you carried him out of the building with little time left before it blew. You were out of breath, panting from your injuries and the effort of running across the entire base to get him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You should have been angry, but when he opened his eyes in your hotel room, blood staining the sheets below him (it didn’t matter, the hotel would never find you once you left) and managed a shaky grin at you while you worked at the bandages at his side, you couldn’t think of anything else than how he looked laying half bled out on the tile floor of that lab, and you kissed him softly (both of you pretended it was only to keep the cuts on his lips from splitting further open). He tasted like blood, but he was still smiling. “Did we do it?” he asked. You held up the file folders for him to see.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He broke another cut open on his mouth, grinning that ridiculous smile at you again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Jacobi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Longer fics are in the future! I've been working on four new ones (three wolf 359 ones- one of which should be about nine or ten chapters, the others should be around three or four- and one for Jupeter from The Penumbra Podcast.) I want to finish them before I upload the first chapters so I don't end up abandoning them. It might take longer, but I'm hoping it'll be worth it! Thanks for putting up with my very short, repetitive fics the last few times. I really appreciate all the support, it means the world to me &lt;3</p><p>This second chapter starts off after the events of Time To Kill, but it isn't necessarily compliant with my other fic, The Taste Of It. I have no explanation for this and therefore will ignore the paradox of both fics existing in the same universe. Sorry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>+1. You’re cold. You’ve been cold since it happened, since the very first word in that stolen voice came across the comms and you felt their eyes snap to you. A second Jacobi, an imposter, and you knew they suspected you. How could they not? You suspected yourself too, started to feel inhuman, </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span>; you felt the weight of their distrust and your own doubt press down on you and you went cold. Like ice, encasing you, making it hard to breathe and even harder to pretend that you’re okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You still feel cold after Kepler’s been told, forcing yourself to meet his eyes when he says your name. He tells everyone to go do their work, and he gives you a task too. Far away. On the other side of the ship. It feels like a banishment, and the ice is creeping into your lungs now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At night (or what passes for night here) you can’t sleep. You stayed up, working on nothing in particular, your hands piecing together scraps on autopilot. You look down at the contraption you’ve made, a small human-shaped figure, with arms of twisted wire and a head of bent metal. It’s cold, in your hands, and the cold creeps into your throat, turning you from the inside out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stand up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kepler’s quarters are next to yours, and you stand outside his door for a moment, wondering how angry he’d be if you woke him up. He opens the door first, and pauses, and then steps back and leaves it open, an invitation that makes the ice in your throat burn as you walk inside. His eyes are not cold, when you meet them, and the slight surprise at that discovery melts just a little of your frozen lungs, and you can breathe again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leans back on the bed and puts an arm out, and you find that you still fit into the space there next to him. It’s strange, but you almost expected not to. Like the events of the last few days should have changed you outwardly as they did inwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kepler speaks, but he doesn’t say much. He tells you some long-winded (probably false) story from his past and you let it lull you to sleep, matching your breathing with his when you can. The ice is retreating, still slowly but a little faster now. You don’t wonder how Kepler knew, or how he knew how to help. You know the answer, and it’s more terrifying than what you just went through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You let a small amount of that terror into yourself, and fall asleep as it mixes with the cold and melts it. The warmth is comforting, in a quiet way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Seriously, they make me ridiculously happy.</p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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